


Those Who Hunt Us

by Wreck



Series: 20 fics in 20 days [15]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Evil Argents, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 20:21:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1360519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wreck/pseuds/Wreck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Hale House burns down, Derek wants only one thing: revenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Who Hunt Us

**Author's Note:**

> After Derek going all crazy in De-Void, I kinda got it in my head that I wanted a serial killer Sterek fic. This is what happened instead. 
> 
> Un beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

When the Hale House burns down, Derek wants only one thing: revenge. 

He stalks down Kate Argent with the intention of ripping out her throat. But when she stands with her back pressed against the wall of the burnt out basement, looking defiantly at Derek, yet still reeking with fear, he decides that a fast death is too kind. Instead he slowly rips her apart, careful to keep her alive as long as possible. 

He falls asleep with a smile on his face, and the echo of her screams in his ears. 

After that, Derek can’t say in Beacon Hills. There are too many memories and he is too restless, his emotions too high. Instead he travels around the country, from one pack to another. It’s easy to find them – those who have been wronged by hunters that didn’t follow the code. And so he offers up his services, makes himself the target of any retribution. He begins avenging the families that have been torn apart because of fear and hate.

 _We hunt those who hunt us_ , the code reads. Well, that works both ways. 

Eight years after the fire, Derek gets a warning from his family’s old emissary: werewolves are back in Beacon Hills, and so are the Argents. 

Derek slashes the letter with his claws. He’s been avoiding his old home for years, but now it’s time to finish what he started. 

As soon as he arrives in town, he can feel the tension in the air, smell the fear that has been gripping the town over the past few months. He knows instantly something is very, very wrong. 

The first person Derek finds is his uncle Peter. He’s no longer in a coma; in fact he’s been trying to rebuild his Alpha strength, turning teenagers into werewolves like it’s a game to him.

What Derek lacks in strength, he has in surprise. Peter’s eyes glow red a second too late as Derek’s claws sink into his chest. Peter roars, turning around to slash at Derek, but Derek ducks under his arm and bites out his throat. The red eyes flash one last time, and then see nothing. Derek’s own eyes are no longer icy blue, but now glow the same red Peter’s did just moments before. 

Derek goes in search of the betas his uncle turned. He follows the scents of unknown werewolves to an abandoned building down near the old train depot, but as soon as he approaches the building, he knows he’s too late. Inside he finds the bodies of two boys and a girl, all in their late teens. They are arranged for shock: limbs and guts slashed opened and stuffed with wolfsbane, mountain ash surrounding them. A silver bullet with the Argent seal sits at the edge of the circle.

Derek roars in outrage. He didn’t even know these betas, but he feels the loss deep within his soul. 

When Derek gets to the Argent’s house, he can sense something is wrong. He can feel a staggering amount of anger, and under that fear. As he races to the front door he suddenly understands where the anger is coming from: bound and gagged, and tied to a column is a young man. He looks about the age Derek’s younger sister would be if she had survived the fire, maybe eighteen or nineteen. He’s struggling against his bonds, screaming against the gag in his mouth. 

Derek stops short and pulls the gag out. 

“They have Scott,” the man screams. “They fucking have Scott.”

Derek leans down to get a closer look and he realizes the face is familiar. It’s been eight years, and nearly everything about him has changed, but it’s undeniably the Sherriff’s son. Stiles, was it? 

“Did you call your father?” Derek half asks, half growls. 

He laughs, high pitched and hysterical. “They already got to him.”

“Fuck! Ok, hold on,” Derek says, slashing at the man’s bonds. “Listen, do you know how many are in there?”

The Stiles rubs at his writs as he thinks. “At least four. There’s the husband and wife, and their daughter, Allison, the one who lured Scott here. And the grandfather,” he counts on his newly freed fingers. “Oh my god, you’re Derek Hale,” he says a moment later when he finally lifts his eyes to meet Derek’s. 

“Yeah,” Derek says absently, listening carefully, trying to identify the heartbeats of everyone in the house. Right now there are five.

“Can you help him?” Stiles asks. 

“I’m going to try,” Derek starts to say, but he cuts himself off with a growl as one of the heartbeats flickers and fades away. 

“What?” Stiles says, fear suddenly replacing the anger that has been wafting off of him. 

“They killed him,” Derek says. “They killed Scott.”

Stiles screams, tears pouring down his cheeks as he tries to rush the front door of the house, but Derek hold him back. 

“Stiles, stop!” Derek commands, his eyes flashing red as if Stiles was one of his betas. “I will make them pay for this. Mark my word.”

Stiles stops struggling and looks Derek in the eye. “Let me help,” he says. 

“You’ll be a marked man,” Derek says. “The other hunters will come after you.”

“I have nothing left,” Stiles returns, voice steady and serious. 

Derek nods and reaches into his jacket to pull out a gun. He prefers to use his own claws whenever he can, but he also likes to be prepared. “You know how to use this?” he asks. 

Stiles clicks off the safety and cocks the gun, “Oh, yeah.”

Derek smiles at him. “Let’s do this, then.” 

And Derek kicks down the door. 

…

Later that night, Derek checks them into the first motel they come across once they enter Oregon. He can still smell the smoke from the fire that consumed the Argent house. He can still hear the echo of the gunshots, still feel the warmth of their blood as his claws slashed through soft skin. 

Stiles hasn’t come out of the bathroom since they entered their room, and Derek has given up trying to figure out what to do with his unexpected companion and crawled into bed. Just has he’s drifting to sleep the door opens and he can see Stiles silhouette in the light of the bathroom. 

Stiles crosses the room and instead of getting in the second bed, he crawls under the blankets and presses up against Derek. Derek breathes in sharply as the smell of Stiles’ arousal fills his nose. 

“What are you doing?” Derek asks, confused. 

“What happens now?” Stiles asks instead of answering Derek’s question. “Where have you been all of this time?”

“We hunt those who hunt us,” Derek quotes. 

“Isn’t that the hunters code?” Stiles asks. 

“It’s also my code,” Derek replies. 

He rolls over so that Stiles is no longer pressed against his side, but directly under Derek. 

“You hunt hunters.”

“Yes,” Derek says. 

“Take me with you,” Stiles whispers. 

Derek presses his body down and feels the hard line of Stiles’ arousal against his own. He dips his neck down and kisses Stiles hard. 

“Yes,” he says. 

And after that there’s no more talking. In the morning they’ll move on to a pack that’s outside of Portland, or maybe Seattle. And when they get there the pack will welcome Stiles as an ally – or maybe even as Derek's mate. 

But for now, Derek and Stiles will hold each other tight and take what comfort they can in each other’s bodies, both trying to forget the losses they endured tonight.


End file.
